


Demon Groom

by Manuscriptor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Cas, Corpse Bride AU, Demon Dean, F/M, Hellhounds and other creatures from down under, M/M, Movie AU, Trueform!Dean, spells for condemning demons, trueform!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-12-26 14:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manuscriptor/pseuds/Manuscriptor
Summary: Castiel Morningstar's and Hannah Silverfeather's families have arranged their marriage. Though they like each other, Castiel is still quite nervous about the ceremony. While he's in a forest practicing his lines for the wedding, a tree branch becomes a hand that drags him to Hell. It belongs to Dean, a Knight of Hell who is desperate for love and wants to marry Castiel. Castiel must get back to Heaven though before Hannah marries a suspicious new angel Alastair Redgem who is not all that he seems.or a Corpse Bride AU of Dean and Castiel





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

“Come along, Castiel,” the cherub said from the golden steps. “The Silverfeather family won’t wait forever.”

Castiel sighed, absentmindedly combing his fingers through his golden feathers. In truth, he was more nervous about the wedding than excited. In truth, it was his brothers who wanted him to marry into the Silverfeather family, not him. He would rather stay by himself and worship the Almighty Father than increase his family's standing within the choirs of Heaven. And yet, here he was. 

“Coming,” he said, undoing one last tangle in his wing before hurrying up the stairs.

“Straighten up!” Lucifer said. “With Father gone, this marriage is our only shot at maintaining our angelic standing.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, squaring off his shoulder. As soon as his brother looked away though, he slouched.

“But remember,” Gabriel said, appearing on his other side and brushing imaginary dust off his suit. “Do not mention our . . . . lack of funds. The Silverfeathers will refuse the union if they know anything about it.”

“I understand,” Castiel said, ruffling his wings. “But why does it have to be me?”

“You’re the youngest,” Michael said, giving Castiel a disapproving look at his fidgeting. “It only makes sense. Now stop that, the Silverfeathers are almost here.”

He knocked on the carved pearl door as second time, tapping his foot in impatience. He twitched his burgundy wings and raised his hands to knock a second time.

The pearl door creaked open just then, and a young cherub peaked out.

“Oh!” he said. “The Morningstars! Sorry to keep your graces waiting!” He opened the doors completely and motioned for them to enter.

“Come along, Castiel,” Michael said. “It is rude to keep the bride waiting.”

Then he walked in, leaving Gabriel and Lucifer to pull Castiel in after him.

The house was lavish. Gold and silver made the walls and floors. The furniture was carved pearl, inlaid with sapphires and rubies and draped in silk blankets and goose feather pillows. Opals and diamonds crested the doorways, emeralds studded the handrails. Stained glass windows sent splinters of color dancing through the air. It was a true house of Heaven, one of the oldest which was rightly so. The Silverfeathers were one of the oldest angel families, stories of their ancestors helping mortals. The most famous Silverfeather protects the Garden of Eden itself, standing there for millennia with a flaming sword and the blessing from the Almighty Father himself.

Castiel was awestruck. And then ashamed at his gaping when he saw Mr. and Mrs. Silverfeather.

They stood tall and proud at the top of a wide stair case, their namesake silver wings folding majestically behind them. They stared disdainfully down at the three brothers, the judgment clear in their eyes. While mortal souls were free of sin in Heaven Paradise, angels were still able to fall quickly to it.

“And you are the Morningstars,” Mrs. Silverfeather said.

It wasn’t a question. Castiel shrank away from her disapproving glare. He wanted to hide from the attention; he wasn’t used to being stared at.

Lucifer elbowed him in the side and gave him a look.

“Ahem,” Castiel said, lifting his wings a little. “Yes, that’s me. Castiel Morningstar.”

“Hm,” Mrs. Silverfeather said, raising an eyebrow. “Hannah is waiting in the West Wing tea room. Come.” She turned, her feathers rippling with the movement, and walked off, Mr. Silverfeather at her heels.

“Come then,” Michael said, nudging Castiel’s shoulder and leading the way.

Castiel gulped, not really wanting to follow. Gabriel pushed passed him and so did Lucifer, leaving Castiel all by himself. He lingered in the lobby, admiring the décor, trying to finds excuses to stay away from the tea room and the pressure.

His eyes fell on an oyster pearl encrusted harp with silk worm strings, sitting in its stand looking dreadfully lonely.

He walked up to it, skimming his fingers along its cool surface. He plucked at a string, smiling at the clear, perfect note it produced. He plucked another, more confident this time. And then another, picking out a short melody. He was so wrapped up in his impromptu song that he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until it was too late.

“It’s beautiful.”

He jumped and spun around, his wing knocking into the harp stand and tipping it. He gasped and lunged to catch it, grabbing it before it could hit the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” he said, carefully balancing the harp back in its stand. “I didn’t mean to break it!” He finally realized who was standing before him and almost dropped the harp a second time.

It was Hannah Silverfeather, giggling at him behind a cupped hand. She wore a flowing white gown, cinched at her impossibly thin waist. Small pearl buttons and diamond beads were stitched into the sleeves and corset, making the entire piece sparkle. Her ebony hair was pinned up with silver hatpins inlaid with sapphires that matched her wings and her eyes. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

“Mother doesn’t let me near the harp,” she said, stepping up to the instrument. She picked at a string. “She says it will ruin my fingers.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense,” Castiel said and then regretted it. He was supposed to be making allies here, not contradicting every decision the Silverfeathers made.

Hannah grabbed his hands, lacing their fingers. “Callouses,” she said, stroking his fingertips. “Mother says they ruin the hands. It’s unattractive.”

Castiel gulped, feeling his cheeks heat up at the contact.

“Of-of course,” he stuttered. “I mean, of course she’s right.”

Hannah sighed, dropping his hands. She looked longingly at the harp and stroked the strings one last time, drifting her fingers down a scale. Her touch was light enough that it didn’t produce any noise, but the skill was evident in her movements and Castiel knew that if Hannah were to play, she would be amazing to listen to.

“What are you two doing alone?!”

Castiel turned at the voice and felt his wings wilt.

Mrs. Silverfeather stood at the top of the stairs, glaring down at them. “How indecent!” she snapped. “Do the Morningstars have no shame?! And right before the wedding too!”

Castiel felt his cheeks heat up again at the accusations. “No!” he said immediately. “It wasn’t like that! I wasn’t doing anything!”

Hannah just rolled her eyes. “We were about to go, Mother,” she said, hiking up her skirts and walking away from Castiel.

“The practice is about to start,” Mrs. Silverfeather said, giving Castiel one last dirty look. “And I hope you have your vows memorized.”

 

 

*~*

 

 

“And-and with this hand,” Castiel said, squeezing his eyes shut tights as if that would help him remember his line. “I will-I will fill your cup! No! Cup of wine, um, hand.”

Hannah was fidgeting next to him, making the pressure even worse. She probably knew her lines. She probably had everything memorized. She was the picture of perfection with her wings folded neatly and every feather in place. Castiel felt rumpled standing next to her.

“With this cup,” Castiel tried again. “I will hold your hand. Wait, with this candle, I will be your wine. No, um—“

“Did you not memorize your vows?!” the priestly angel said. He had been growing more and more annoyed as Castiel struggled, and it had finally become too much. “You have a simple job!” he yelled. “You must memorize words and that is all! Is that too difficult for even _you_?!”

“I’m sorry!” Castiel said. All he could think about were all the eyes that were watching him mess up. He could practically feel the anger radiating off his brothers. He swallowed and tried again. “With this candle, I will light your wine—“

“Wrong!” the priestly angel yelled. “Please, at least tell me you remember the ring!”

Castiel perked up. Of course! Even he wasn’t fool enough to forget the most important part of the union.

“I did!” he said, fishing around his pocket and pulling out the simple band.

It was gold, which wasn’t much in the house they were standing in. It was so pure, however, that it was like transparent glass with only the smallest tinge of yellow. It had been fired in flames from Lucifer’s own sword, rendering it purer than usual. And more beautiful.

Castiel held it up triumphantly, loving the way it caught and captured the light. When he moved to hand it to the priest, however, it slipped out of his fingers.

Castiel twisted to grab it before it hit the floor. His wing, though, caught on the edge of the altar, not only throwing off his catch but knocking both candle sticks and the goblets over. Luckily, they weren’t _actually_ filled with wine; that would only happen at the real union ceremony. The ring clattered to the ground, bouncing and rolling under Mrs. Silverfeather’s heavy skirts. She shrieked in alarm as Castiel dove down to grab it.

“You hooligan!” she yelled as his hand slipped under her skirts as he felt around for the ring.

“I am so sorry!” he said. Michael was on the other side of the room, scowling at him.

“Allow me!” a pompous voice declared, catching everyone’s attention.

Another angel, which no one had noticed until now, stooped elegantly down and picked up the ring where it had rolled to a stop at his feet. He polished it on the lapel of his suit jacket and smiled down at Castiel, who was still on his knees with a hand up Mrs. Silverfeather’s skirt.

“Oh!” Castiel said, jumped to his feet. His cheeks were still burning red. “Thank you!”

The angel offered the ring back to him and cleared his throat. “I am Alastair Redgem,” he said.

Castiel slipped the ring back into his pocket and eyed the new angel distrustfully. He felt uneasy for some reason. Mrs. Silverfeather, on the other hand, was completely taken with him.

“Redgem, you say?” she said, popping to her feet and practically fawning over him. “I haven’t heard of that angel family. You must be from a higher ranking.”

Castiel narrowing his eyes. He had never heard of the Redgems either. Alastair had his wings tucked away and out of sight, probably out of respect for the Silverfeathers. It still made Castiel suspicious though. Most angels kept their wings out in Heaven, to show off and to attract a mate. Without his wings, Alastair was hard to read.

“Hm, yes,” Alastair said, turning his attention away from Mrs. Silverfeather. “I came to see Hannah.” He turned to her and took her hand, laying a gentle kiss on the back. “Such a beautiful young bride.”

“Oh, thank you,” Hannah said with a shy laugh.

Castiel felt his cheeks go hot with jealousy and he rustled his wings, feeling them spread slightly. It was instinct that drove him to try to impress Hannah. _He_ was the one with golden wings! Alastair still hadn’t shown his. He fluffed his feathers. Wasn’t Hannah impressed with his plumage? It wasn’t exactly common for an angel to have golden feathers, and the Morningstars were quite proud of this fact, even Castiel.

“We are done here!” the priest angel said, gathering up his goblets and candle sticks with a huff. “Learn your lines by the ceremony, or the entire thing will be ruined!”

Castiel shivered at the threat and felt his wings re-droop. Michael and Lucifer were giving his evil looks from the other side of the room. He was so dead.

 

 

*~*

 

 

Castiel wandered away from the Silverfeather Mansion, listening to the angel crier spread the news of his bumbling failure.

“Morningstar boy ruins wedding practice!” the cherub called. “Can’t memorize his lines and can’t hold onto the ring!”

Castiel sighed and hurried away, heading off toward the outreaches of Heaven just to get away from everyone. Not many angels like the forest that grew outside the golden streets. Castiel wasn’t sure why. It was perfect, like the rest of Heaven. No underbrush to trip you and no brambles to tear out your feathers. There were clear paths and many, many flowers. Plus, it was quiet. And Castiel loved the quiet.  

He just needed to get away from everyone. He needed peace and alone time and then he could memorize his lines. And then he would prove everyone wrong by being absolutely perfect at the ceremony and then Hannah would love him more than that Redgem angel.

“With this hand,” he said dramatically to a nearby tree, cupping one of the branches. “I will lift your sorrows.”

He turned to a bush and lovingly stroked its leaves. “Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine.” He scooped a twig off the ground and held it aloft. “With this candle, I will light your way into darkness.” He dropped the twig and pulled the ring out of his pocket, turning to a cluster of five branches that looked conveniently like a hand.

“And with this ring,” he said, slipping it onto the twig fingers. “I ask you to be mine.”

He sat back on his heels and smiled. There, he had done it. He _did_ have his lines memorized. The priest angel would be so surprised! And his brothers would be proud! And Hannah would be impressed!

A breeze suddenly rustled through the small clearing, making Castiel stiffen and look around. The twigs that held his ring rattled and then suddenly curled, clenching tight.

“I do,” an un-heavenly voice said.

Castiel jumped back as the ground broke open and the most unholy of creatures crawled forth, ghastly and ugly and black eyes gleaming. Castiel’s wings flared in defense, and fear raced through his system.

Heaven was being invaded! He had to warn Michael!

He spun on his heels and took off running. This was bad! This was bad! This was bad! He got as far as the edge of the woods before screeching to a halt, almost flaring his wings as the creature appeared in front of him in a twist of black smoke.

“Why are you running?” the demon asked with a sly grin.

He grabbed Castiel’s hands and brought them to his mouth, kissing the knuckles tenderly. To Castiel’s surprise, it was cold. The kiss was cold. The demon’s lips were cold. It made him shiver. It was the coldest thing he had ever felt.

“Do you usually run away right after proposing?” the demon asked, looking up at him and still maintaining his cheeky grin.

“Oh no,” Castiel said with a whimper as the demon gripped his wrists tight and pulled him down, down, down from Heaven.


	2. Chapter 2

 

When Castiel woke, he wasn’t surrounded by the bright colors and warm glow of Heaven. Instead, there was rot and decay and darkness and cold. The trees around him were all missing their bark. Their bare branches rattled in the wind. A faint howling echoed through the haunting forest. The sky above was completely grey without even a trace of a sun, looking like it would rain at any moment.

Castiel jumped to his feet, drawing his wings in close. He wrapped himself in his feathers, shivering more out of fear than the cold.

He wasn’t supposed to be this far from Heaven. _No_ _angel_ was supposed to be this far from Heaven.

Twigs cracked behind him, and he spun.

Would his prayers reach Heaven from here? In fact, did angel prayers even work the same way as mortal prayers?

“Michael,” he tried, looking up into the dark, cloudy sky. “Michael, can you hear me?”

He waited for some sort of sign that his brother had heard him. Nothing. How did humans do this?

“Gabriel? Lucifer?” He bit his lip. “Hannah?”

He was in so much trouble. And what was even worse was that he didn’t know where the demon who pulled him down here was. It could be anywhere. With its black eyes glinting, sharp teeth snapping, evilness being all evil.

More twigs snapped ominously, and he almost jumped out of his skin. He kept his wings drawn in tight around him.

“Hello, daring darling,” a familiar voice said. “Welcome to my home.”

Castiel spun around in alarm, unable to keep his wings from flaring in defense.

The demon who had pulled him down here was standing a little ways away, smiling at him. It wasn’t the same cocky grin from Heaven, and the pitch eyes were gone. He looked nearly human and almost harmless.

“Do you like it?” he asked, stepped forward. He looked up at the trees around them. “I mean, it’s not quite Heaven but it’s still—“ He sighed. “Home.” He looked back at Castiel. “I’m Dean.”

Castiel didn’t think twice. He turned and took off running, tearing his way through the foliage. It wasn’t like Heaven. There were roots and brambles waiting to trip him, and every branch seemed to tear at his feathers. He just needed a clearing. Somewhere he could spread his wings. He would _fly_ home. That’s how he would escape.

The trees broke apart ahead of him, and he loosed his wings, preparing to take off.

He jumped.

Someone grabbed his ankle, yanking him back down to the hard-packed earth. He landed face first with a thud, his wings sprawling. He coughed from the impacted, disoriented for a moment.

“Are you mad?” Dean hissed. His eyes were back to black. “As soon as you get in the air, every demon and hell spawn from miles around will come to hunt you down.”

Castiel whimpered and slammed a foot into the demon’s face. He wrenched his foot free and scrambled up, running even faster than he had before.

He had to get away! He had to get away!

He suddenly burst free of the forest, practically stumbling straight onto the streets of a town. If the shambles could be called houses that is.

Every building was rundown and old-looking. Nothing like Heaven and its mansions. Cobwebs drooped from cracks. Castiel was pretty sure he saw rats running in and out of the sewer holes. When he leaned on a corner to catch his breath, slime oozed between his fingers.

“Stop running!” Dean called. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

Castiel couldn’t stop. He had to get away!

He took off again, choosing sketchy looking alleys to slip into and trying to make spontaneous turns. He doubled back more than once. Finally, he slipped into a deserted building, leaning against the wall as he panted for breath.

Surely that should’ve shaken the demon! Right? There was no way he could’ve tracked Castiel after all that.

Castiel curled his wings close to his body, grateful for their warmth. Everything else seemed so _cold_ down here. In fact, Castiel was pretty sure he hadn’t seen another living creature yet. Well, besides the demon, but that wasn’t necessarily living.

“What do we have here?”

Castiel jumped at the gravelly voice. He turned, expecting to see a black-eyed demon. Instead, it looked like a regular human. Strange. What was he doing in Hell?

“Aren’t you the most delicious snack,” the human said, stepping towards him.

Castiel jumped as the human tipped his head back and opened a gaping mouth rimmed with teeth. A forked tongue flicked out, followed by a violent hiss.

_What is the name of the Almighty Father?!_

Castiel scrambled away and almost unfurled his wings when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

It was the demon.

“Lay off, Leviathan,” he said, briefly flashing his eyes. “This one’s mine.”

The . . . . Leviathan shut his mouth with a sneer. “Then make sure it doesn’t go off running,” he snapped. “There are a lot more creatures who wouldn’t stop even if a Knight of Hell flashed their pretty little eyes.”

He then stomped off, and Castiel became aware that he was cuddled in the demon’s arms, wings pulled tight. He pushed away, feeling his cheeks go hot.

“Woah! Settle down, Twinkle Feathers,” the demon said. “I was _protecting_ you.”

“You’re gonna _eat_ me!” Castiel exclaimed, unable to keep the horror out of his voice.

“I am not!” the demon said. “The Leviathan going to eat you. I was stopping him.” 

“Then what do you want?” Castiel demanded, planting his feet. He balled his hands into fists, prepared for a fight.

The demon held up his hand, and the ring on his finger twinkled faintly, still glowing from the light of Heaven.

“We’re married,” he said. “Remember? You proposed. I said yes.”

“I did not!” Castiel said. “I was . . . . . practicing.”

“Not so loud!” the demon said. He grabbed Castiel’s hand. “Come on. I know a place we can talk in peace.”

He pulled Castiel back out into the streets, tugging him down back alleyways as they ran along. Castiel’s heart was still pounding but he was less nervous for some reason. They left town and climbed a small hill. The demon pushed aside the branches for him as they climbed. He always kept their fingers wrapped together, probably so Castiel couldn’t run away. The glint of Heaven gold every now and then only mocked him.

“Here,” the demon said, as they finally reached the bare top. He steered Castiel to a fallen, rotting log and plopped down, pulling Castiel with him. He then twisted and pulled a wrapped box from behind him. “And here.”

Castiel took the box, unsure what to do with it. “What is it?”

“A present,” the demon said. “From me, to you.” He pointed to a small flap of paper.

Castiel squinted his eyes.

“To my daring darling,” it read. “From Dean.”

“I got it myself,” Dean said. “Go on. Open it.”

“I don’t get it,” Castiel said. “What is a present?”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “You don’t know what a present is?” he said. “Do you not give presents in Heaven?”

“Just tell me what a present is,” Castiel said with a huff. “And then I’ll know if we have them or not.”

“It’s a gift,” Dean said. “It’s when you see someone without something that you think they need. Or you know that they would enjoy a certain item. So, you get it for them and give it to them all wrapped up to make it pretty. That’s a present.”

“We have everything we need in Heaven,” Castiel said, tracing the letters on the to-and-from tag. “We do not need to get each other anything.” He thought of the ring on Dean’s finger. “Usually,” he added.

“Well, we _are_ married,” Dean said. “I think we should be able to give each other presents just because. Now open it.”

Castiel sighed but dutifully undid the paper and then opened the box. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. But the red leather collar certainly wasn’t what he thought would be inside.

“I don’t get it,” he said, picking up the item. “I don’t need a collar.”

He wings shivered. Maybe Dean meant that he was now his pet. A _slave_. And he would never be able to leave this horrible place. He would be stuck here _forever_ , doing whatever Dean ordered. He was about to jump to his feet when Dean laughed.

“It’s not for you,” he said. He then let out a sharp whistle.

Castiel’s feathers bristled at the sound. What was that for? He flinched when he heard something huge crashing through the undergrowth burst out of the forest and lunged for them. He jumped to his feet, ready to fly to safety but Dean grabbed his hand.

“He won’t hurt you,” he said. “He’s mine.”

Castiel wasn’t so sure.

The hound circled closer to them. While its eyes were dark red, burning embers, a blue first aura surrounded its body. It snarled at Castiel, baring hellfire fangs. Its huge paws crushed the grass as it padded back and forth warily.

“Come here, boy,” Dean coaxed.

Castiel stiffened, pulling against the demon’s grip. He wanted to run but Dean wouldn’t let him.

“See?” Dean said as the hound nudged its gargantuan head under his waiting hand. “They’re big puppies when they aren’t hunting souls.”

“When they _aren’t_ hunting souls,” Castiel repeated, a little breathless. He couldn’t believe he was standing less than a wingspan from the hell spawn he had only heard legends about. Even Michael warned of hellhounds and how they could rip an angel wing from wing.

Dean took the red collar from his hands and slipped over the hound’s snout and tugged it down to its neck. The great beast stepped back and shook. Castiel was scared it would attack when it raised one huge back paw to scratch its shoulder before settling onto its haunches.

“See,” Dean said. “Nothing to worry about.”

Castiel was still wary.

“He’s yours now,” Dean said. “He’s the present.”

Castiel gasped before he remembered to compose himself.

Dean grinned. “Like it?”

Castiel didn’t know what to say. He could only stare at the huge beast in front of him. It was almost as big as him! What was he even supposed to do with it anyway?!

“Here,” Dean said. Before Castiel could protest, the demon has dragged him closer and pressed their hands against the giant dog’s head.

The fur was cold, like every other thing in this place it seemed. Not that the fur wasn’t soft. It felt quite nice almost, and Castiel even screwed up the courage to give the hound a small scratch.

“It gets hotter,” Dean said.

Castiel gave him a look.

“When they hunt their victims,” he said. “They get hotter. When you aren’t their target, they are cold and cuddly.”

Castiel almost rolled his eyes. Was this supposed to be romantic?

“Does he had a name?” he asked instead. He was aware that their hands were still together.

“He’s yours,” Dean said. “You’re supposed to name him.”

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. He had never named anything before. It seemed preposterous. He rubbed his fingers through the soft fur as he thought.

“Scraps,” he finally said. “I’ll call him Scraps. It is a him, right?”

Dean only grinned. “It’s a him all right,” was his mysterious answer. “Why Scraps?” he then asked.

Castiel shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Because he’s scrappy?”

Dean laughed, and Castiel found himself smiling. They sat there a moment, petting Scraps, holding hands, each smiling. Castiel was just starting to relax when he saw the flash of Heaven gold on Dean’s finger. Dean must’ve felt him stiffen because he stopped petting Scraps and leaned away.

“Do you miss Heaven?” he asked.

Castiel swallowed the lump in his throat. How would the demon react? “Yes,” he said softly.

Dean grabbed his hand again, lacing their fingers. “We can visit!” he said. “There is a crossroads demon I know that can get us a deal.”

Castiel shivered at the mention of a crossroads demon. He had heard stories of angels who had run-ins with their kind. He had seen torn wings and bruised graces and listened as the angels told of the horrific fights.

Dean was already pulling him along though, and with Scraps on their heels, they raced back through the forest. Dean finally stopped at the intersection of two dirt paths with a creaky, broken street sign barely hanging together. Dean dropped his hand and bent in the dirt. Castiel considered running, considered flying. Instead, he wrapped his wings around himself tight and curiously peered over Dean’s shoulder.

“My, my, my,” a silky voice crooned. “What two delicious morsels do we have here?”

Castiel spun around, spreading his wings. Before he could flare his grace, Dean was holding his hand, holding him back.

“Aamon,” he said.

The crossroads demon, a female demon with a body that made Castiel blush, flashed her eyes a smoky yellow.

“My, if it isn’t a Knight of Hell,” she said and the scowled. “What do you want, Dean, and why did you summon me?”

Castiel glanced at Dean. Did demons usually make deals with each other? But they had no souls to sell, and ten years were nothing to an immortal being.

“I was wondering if you could get us into Heaven,” Dean said. He didn’t seem bothered by her venomous tone. “We can make a deal.”

“I don’t want to deal with you,” Aamon said, sticking her nose in the air. “I try to never have repeat customers.”

Dean only laughed. “Come on,” he said. “Having a Knight in your debt is a good thing, right? Besides, we just need about a day or so in Heaven.”

Castiel swallowed. An entire day would give him plenty of time to contact Michael and Lucifer and tell them what was going on. He could go straight to Hannah. Surely her family knew how to deal with demons and contracts!

Aamon mulled this over, popping a finger in and out of her mouth. “Fine,” she said after a long moment of thinking. “I can send you up there, but you owe me.”

“Of course,” Dean said. He clutched Castiel’s hand tighter. “Any magic words for us to keep track of?”

Aamon rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she snapped. “If you get into any hard spots or find yourself in danger, you can return to Hell by saying the word. . . . . . Creation.”

Dean laughed. “Creation?” he repeated. “What kind of word is that?”

Castiel gave him a strange look. Of course, every angel knew of creation. The Almighty Father could create things just by speaking. Yet, demons probably knew nothing of creation. That must be why it sounded so strange.

“It’s your safety word,” Aamon said. “Just remember it. You won’t be able to get back otherwise. Heaven is tricky to navigate in and out of.”

“Creation, got it,” Dean said. He gave Castiel’s hand a squeeze. “Ready?”

Castiel swallowed again and nodded. As soon as they were in Heaven, he would blast his grace to stun Dean and then call for his brothers. Or Hannah. His brothers would probably mock him for getting captured by a demon. He would call for Hannah.

“Three,” Aamon said. “Two.” She raised a hand. “One.” She snapped her fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel woke on the forest floor. The foliage around him was bright and colorful, blazing with light and warmth. Every flower was in full bloom, filling the air with a sweet perfume. The sky was a crystal blue without a cloud to be seen. Castiel jumped to his feet.

Heaven! He was home!

He cast around for Dean, but the demon was nowhere to be seen. Castiel wondered, briefly, where the Knight could’ve been blasted off to but then shrugged it off. He had to go!

_Hannah!!_ He called out. Perhaps praying worked in Heaven. _Hannah! It’s Castiel!!_

He flared his wings and took flight, the weightless feeling of flying an absolute luxury after spending so long in Hell. Castiel never wanted to walk anywhere ever again.

He headed straight for the town, dodging through the treetops. He didn’t want to go too high or Dean, wherever he was, might see him. He stuck low and maneuvered the best he could.

There! The Silverfeather Mansion!

He aimed for the balcony of Hannah’s room, tucking his wings in as he prepared to land. He set down silently and paused, straining his ears. He could hear Hannah softly singing to herself, and he sighed in relief. She could help him. He knew she would.

“Hello?” He called softly. He didn’t want to frighten her.

“Who’s there?!” Hannah exclaimed.

Well, too late for not scaring.

“It’s me,” Castiel said, pushing aside the curtains of silk. “Castiel Morningstar.”

Hannah furrowed her eyebrows. “Castiel?” she said. “What are you doing here? You’ve been missing all day!”

Castiel slipped quickly into the room. “That’s why I came to you,” he said. “Look, I have to speak quickly!”

“Mother was furious that you hadn’t been ready for the ceremony,” Hannah went on. “And she’s been chatting with Alastair all afternoon.”

Castiel felt his wings bristle at the mention of the opposing angel suiter. No, he had to focus.

“Hannah, you have to help me,” he said. “Listen! A demon has me—“

“Demon?!” Hannah said with a gasp, her wings flaring in alarm.

“He won’t let me go! I need your help. Together, we can banish him—“

The room went suddenly dark. The candles Hannah had lit on her table snapped out with a sizzle, and a violent wind ripped through Castiel’s feathers. The temperature dropped several degrees suddenly, and Hannah screamed.

“What?!” Dean demanded. “Do you think you’re doing?!”

Castiel spun around, wings drooping at the sight.

Dean was standing on the balcony, shadows clinging to him even in the harsh light of Heaven. His eyes were black as Hell and his skin crackled with demonic power. His face was twisted with rage. He looked furious.

“Dean!” Castiel said. He flared his wings to protect Hannah. “Stop it! This isn’t what it looks like!”

“You were going to _banish_ me?!” Dean snarled back. “You thought you could banish _me_?!”

Hannah’s screaming had brought her parents running. The door started to open as they called to Hannah, asking if everything is okay and demanding to know what was going on. Dean slammed it shut with a flick of his wrist, locking it.

“You are mine!” he said, stomping toward Castiel. “Leave this whiny little welp to her sobbing. _We’re_ going home!”

“I am home!” Castiel said. Dean grabbed his wrist before he could twist away. “Heaven _is_ my home!”

Dean’s eyes blackened even further and he bared hideous fangs. “Not anymore,” he said, his fingers digging into Castiel’s flesh. “Creation!”

Castiel closed his eyes as their surroundings exploded and he felt himself being sucked down down down, even further away from Heaven than before if that were possible. He couldn’t help but let out a sob as his last hope disappeared in a cloud of golden smoke.

 

 

~*~

 

 

“How could you betray me?” Dean thundered. His demonic power still crackled on his skin, and his eyes had yet to return to the normal human green. Castiel actually didn’t mind them when they were green, but when they were black, well, Castiel knew he had done something wrong.

“I didn’t mean to!” Castiel said. “Hannah and I—“

“So that’s her name?” Dean said, spitting out the words. “Hannah? She will feel Hell’s wrath!”

“No!” Castiel said. “You can’t do that! We were to be united!”

Dean shoved his hand in Castiel’s face, forcing him to look at the ring on his finger. “You and I are _married_!” he said. “You were going to cheat on me!”

“I was to marry Hannah first!” Castiel shot back. He couldn’t stop himself. Not anymore. “Not some demon like you!”

Dean snapped his mouth shut and stepped back. The black in his eyes slowly receded to reveal the human green. He actually looked heartbroken.

“I take it things didn’t go very well?” Aamon asked, lounging against the crossroads sign pole.

Castiel bit his lip. Could demons cry? It looked like Dean was holding back tears.

“It went just fine,” Dean spat through gritted teeth. “Just _perfect_.” He then spun around and stormed off.

Aamon cackled. “Poor sweet darling,” she said. “Just imagine: your sparkly wings broke his black heart.” She laughed again.

Castiel actually felt bad. “I have to find him,” he said and hurried off in the direction Dean had run.

He found him sitting by a rotting tree, knees up to his chest, just staring at the ground. He didn’t even look up when Castiel sat down next to him. His eyes were still the sad green, and when Castiel lay a hand on his shoulder, the skin was cold through the fabric of his shirt.

“I didn’t know you thought that way,” Dean said. He hunched his shoulders against Castiel’s touch. “You really think I’m that bad?”

Castiel grimaced. “I didn’t mean it,” he said. “I was just frustrated. _Am_ frustrated. And scared. Mostly scared.”

Dean sighed and stood, brushing Castiel’s hand away. “I scare you,” he said.

“You don’t!” Castiel said, standing as well. He self-consciously wrapped his golden wings tighter around himself. “This was all . . . . it’s all been a mistake!”

Dean looked up at him, his eyes going greener if that were possible. Castiel didn’t know demon anatomy.

“Is it because I don’t have wings?” he asked. “Pretty silver ones like hers. And because she’s warm and I’m –“ He looked down at his hands. “Cold as Hell. And she lived in that pretty golden house and I live.” He gestured to the forest around them. “Here.”

“It’s not that,” Castiel said.

Dean stepped closer to him and grabbed his hand, placing it on his cold, cold chest. “The fact that my heart doesn’t beat doesn’t bother you?” he said.

Castiel flinched when he didn’t feel a pulse and then instantly regretted it as Dean pulled away.

“It doesn’t!” he said. “But we’re so different. How could it ever work?”

“Love doesn’t care,” Dean said. “Love crosses boundaries.”

Castiel slumped his wings. He looked down at the ring on Dean’s finger. It fit so well. Like it was meant to be there all this time. He sighed. He couldn’t find it in him to rip it away. Dean already looked so broken. What would happen if Castiel left him too?


	4. Chapter 4

Hannah could believe it. She couldn’t believe it! She was losing her feathers from worry!

Castiel? Sweet, shy Castiel had married a demon? How had that even happened?

She brushed off her skirts and stood, wincing at the silver feathers she left on the seat. It wasn’t too many. But still, it was embarrassing.

“Mother!” she called, heading out of her room. “Mother?”

“Hannah, what are you doing up and about?” her mother said, stopping her in the middle of the hall.

“I’m worried about Castiel,” Hannah said. “Where has he gone? Do you think he is alright?”

Her mother tsked and shook her head. “Don’t worry yourself over that stupid angel,” she said. “He was foolish to think he could abandon you, a day before the ceremony too! I have half a mind to tell those Morningstar boys just exactly what I think of their disrespectful behavior.”

“I don’t think it’s their fault,” Hannah said. “I think Castiel has been taken by demons!”

Her mother laughed. “Hannah dear, are you listening to yourself?” she said. “Demons? Honestly! Demons can’t get into Heaven! Castiel is simply a poor excuse of an angel.”

“But I saw one!” Hannah insisted. She balled her hands into fists as her mother turned up her nose and walked away without another word.

“You saw _nothing_ , Hannah,” her mother said over her shoulder. “You are simply nervous about the union. Go back to your room and get some rest.”

Hannah gritted her teeth and balled up her fists. If her mother wouldn’t believe her, she would just have to find someone who would. And she already had someone in mind. She hiked up her skirts and hurried in the opposite direction, slipping out the door before her mother could tell her no. She kept her wings tucked in close as she snuck down the street. She wasn’t so much worried that someone would see her, but more worried that they would try to stop her.

Finally, she reached the small chapel on the edge of town that was the home of the priest angel. She slipped through the tall double doors, closing them gently behind her. She didn’t want to be noticed quite yet.

The inside of the cathedral was old but majestic. It had been here as long as Hannah had known and would stay here for twice as long. It has long wooden benches and sparkling mosaics made of stained diamond. Depictions of angels and humans and, of course, the Almighty One were picked out in careful shards. It was all so breathtaking, but Hannah was here for a different reason.

“Hello,” she called. The priest angel should be around here somewhere. “Hello?”

“Dear, what are you doing here?” the priest asked, appearing from behind the altar as if by mystic. “It’s only a day before the ceremony.”

“I just had a couple questions,” Hannah said. “About . . . . . . demons.”

The priest made a noise in the back of his throat and rustled his sky blue wings. “Demons are not something you should be messing with,” he said. “Why would an angel such as yourself be interested in something so horrendous?”

“I just am,” Hannah said. “It’s just a couple questions. Could a demon get into Heaven?”

“Hmm,” the priest said. His feathers were still stiff, flared in agitation. “One could, I guess, if one had the determination.”

“Alright,” Hannah said. “And do you think a demon could ever . . . say, marry an angel? Or be unified with an angel?”

The priest raised an eyebrow and gave her a look. “What in Heaven are you talking about?” he said. “That sounds absolutely ridiculous!”

“I know!” Hannah said, combing her fingers through her feathers nervously. “But, say, hypothetically?”

The priest sighed. “You are nervous, dear,” he said. “With the ceremony coming so soon, it’s understandable that you have questions. But don’t worry. I’m sure everything will be alright.”

“But you didn’t answer my question,” Hannah said.

The priest grabbed her arm and steered her toward the door. “I told you,” he said. “You are nervous. Let’s get you back home and in bed. I’m sure all you need is a little rest.”

Before Hannah could protest further, he was dragging her out the door and back into town. He dropped her off at the doorstep of her house, much to the horror of her mother.

“Hannah!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing out?”

Hannah was about to come up with an excuse when the priest spoiled her cover.

“She was asking about _demons_ ,” he said. “Asking all sorts of unholy things.” He narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t think you raised her this way, Mrs. Silverfeather. I assume it’s just nerves over the wedding.”

“I would think so too,” Mrs. Silverfeather said, yanking Hannah back into the house. Once the door was firmly shut, she turned on Hannah with a scowl. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“I was trying to help Castiel!” Hannah said. “He is in trouble. I _know_ it!”

“Get your mind off that stupid Morningstar boy,” Mrs. Silverfeather said. “He’s no longer important.”

Hannah frowned. “What?” she said, confused.

“You’re no longer marrying him,” her mother said as if they had discussed this already. They most certainly _hadn’t_. “Your father and I decided. You will marry Alastair Redgem.”

At his name, the angel appeared out of the shadows as if by mystic. He had his wings tucked respectfully away out of sight. Hannah felt her own wings flare in agitation. Whatever Alastair’s wings looked like, they couldn’t compare to Castiel’s wonderful golden plumage. He had the most beautiful wings of any angel she had ever seen. It rubbed her feathers the wrong way, how Alastair had never shown off his wings. It was like he was trying to hide something.

“Mother!” Hannah exclaimed. “You can’t be serious!”

Mrs. Silverfeather ruffled her feathers and stared down her nose as Hannah. “You will do what is best for this family,” she said. “And you will do it without complaining.”

Hannah scowled and crossed her arms. She flared her wings and spun, stomping back to her room. She slammed the door as loud as she could and retreated to the balcony, throwing herself on the window seat. She stared up at the blue sky, out over the golden city, and let her wings drop over the edge and dangle down. She sighed.

“I am not marrying Alastair,” Hannah said, mostly to herself. She stared up at the sky and said it again. “I am _not_ marrying Alastair.”  

Beneath her balcony, unknown and unseen to everyone, a small hell spirit snickered and cackled and grabbed one last fruit off the tree it was perched in before scampering back down to Hell and Purgatory.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel watched as Dean paced through the small glen of burnt out trees. Occasionally, a crackle of energy would snap off his skin, telling Castiel that the demon was still very much angry about the whole Heaven incident. It seemed like he was cooling down though. His eyes had been green for the past couple minutes, and at least he wasn’t yelling. Sending several hissing fireballs into a nearby stream had channeled his anger a little but left Castiel’s wings shaking. He was still a little nervous that Dean would turn on him like that.

They were both brooding in silence until a chilling voice came from the direction of the stream. Castiel nearly jumped out of his skin. Dean wasn’t as surprised.

“Greetings, Knight of Hell,” the green woman said as she climbed out of the water and propped herself on the bank.

Seaweed hair dripped down her shoulders and fanned across her shoulders. The water seemed to ooze along her skin, collecting in the small of her back as she leaned out of the water. It was then that Castiel realized that she was indecent. Completely so! And a second later, he realized she had three breasts that she wasn’t at all embarrassed about.

Immediately, with a blush burning across his face, he turned his face away from the sin, wondering how rude it would be to hide his face with his wings.

Dean, of course, was unfazed.

“Nakki,” he said warmly, speaking for the first time without sounding broken or angry since returning to Hell. He almost sounded relieved to see the promiscuous woman. “What are you doing here?”

Nakki chuckled, as if she knew a secret. “The real question is, Knight, why are you still flouncing around with a charge of Heaven.”

“You know very well why, Nakki,” Dean said, raising a fist to show off the ring with the gold. “Why are you _really_ here?”

Nakki smirked and winked flirtatiously at Castiel. “I just wanted to see the little cherub,” she said. “Wanted to see if the rumors were true.”

Castiel balked, lowering his guard to look at the adulterous woman or river spirit or hell whore, whatever she was. “Rumors?” he asked.

She thrust out her chest to him. “Of course,” she said, wiggling her hips. “Everyone is talking of the golden winged angel who was abandoned at the altar. Whose bride chose a wingless suitor instead. The golden winged angel who shamed his family by running away with a demon. What a naught, naughty charge of Heaven, so loose in his loins.”

Castiel blushed even harder and clenched his hands into fists. “That’s not how it is!” he said. “I didn’t leave –“ What Nakki said finally sunk in. “Hannah is marrying another?” he whispered in disbelief.

Nakki gave him a pitying smile. “Oh, love, he didn’t know,” she said with mocking sadness. “When you run away with a lover it’s fine but when she moves on it’s bad? I’m sensing double standards, angel.”

Castiel shot to his feet and flared his wings. “I didn’t run away!” he said, nearly exploding with anger. “I didn’t abandon her! Who is this angel? What do you mean he has no wings? Who is Hannah marrying, you sea witch?!”

Nakki rolled her eyes, not at all offset by his outburst. She pouted and picked at the ends of her hair with fake interest. “If you really must know,” she said. “The wingless angel’s name is Alastair Redgem. Quite the handsome fellow if the rumors are right. Why do you care so much?”

“Redgem?” Castiel said, frowning in confusion.

“Alastair?” Dean said, equally confused.

Castiel glanced to him. “There is no angel family named Redgem.”

Dean’s jaw was set in a harsh line, and the edges of his eyes were curling black. “That’s because he is no angel,” he said. “Alastair is a demon. That’s why he’s wingless, that bastard.”

Castiel felt faint. He had to sink back to his seat just so that he wouldn’t fall over. “A demon,” he murmured. “Hannah is going to marry a demon instead of me.”

“That half assed excuse for hell spawn is trying to squeeze his way into Heaven,” Dean snarled. His eyes were fully black now.

“Without the permission of a Knight?” Nakki said, sinking a little back into the water. Even she looked a little scared of Dean at the moment. “Naughty, naughty hell spawn. That’s a big no-no.”

“Invade Heaven?” Castiel repeated. Now his head was spinning even more. “What’s he going to do?”

Dean stormed over to him and grabbed his hand, pulling him up and clutching Castiel to his chest. “He’s trying to do what every good demon wants to do,” he said, tilting Castiel’s face up to his own. “Tear Heaven apart by its seams.”

Castiel swallowed hard, clinging to Dean for support. The tips of his wings dragged along the ground. “They . . . he can’t do that,” he said. “Heaven is – they can’t do that.”

Dean actually growled. “I won’t let them,” he said with a snarl. “Nakki, spread the word to my demons. We march on Heaven, not to take the gates, but to retrieve one of our own.”

Nakki bowed, no longer flirty or smug. She basically groveled on the bank of the stream. “Of course, my Knight,” she said, fixing her eyes on the ground. With that, she dipped back down into the water and disappeared in a heartbeat.

Castiel was nearly shaking in fear as Dean gathered him in his arms and started walking. He hugged Dean’s shoulders, drawing up his wings so they wouldn’t drag. “Where are we going?” he whispered, looking up at Dean’s pitch eyes.

“To Heaven,” Dean said. “To drag Alastair’s ass back to where it belongs.”

“I don’t understand,” Castiel said. “Don’t . . . . don’t demons want to take over Heaven? Don’t you want to overrun the angels?”

 Dean’s eyes softened a little, the green showing through. “Not like this,” he said. “Not when I can see the pain it causes you. Besides, we are going to rescue Hannah as well. Because there is no worse fate than to be bonded and married to a demon.”

Castiel wanted to corrected him, but didn’t.

 


	6. Chapter 6

And they marched on Heaven.

Castiel was surprised at the amount of demons and hell spawn that came crawling to march behind Dean. They flashed teeth and claws and black eyes, tails and wings and forked tongues. Hellhounds bounded out from the shadows, shoving their way to Dean’s side. They gave off waves of heat as they snarled and pawed the ground, gouging the dirt with their huge claws. Castiel caught a glimpse of a red collar and realized Scraps, the hellhound Dean had given him, was in the pack as well and just as vicious as the rest.

Castiel felt very small and very weak. He was tucked under Dean’s arm, dragged along whether he wanted to or not. He curled his wings tight and did his best not to cry.

And as they moved along, Dean started up a chant. Whatever he shouted, the mob shouted back. As more flooded their ranks, their cries grew louder and louder.

“No one kills,” he roared.

“No one kills,” the army yelled back.

“No one dies,” he called.

“No one dies!” As one, the army slammed their feet against the ground, creating a booming rhythm.

“We take what is ours!” Dean yelled. “And nothing else!”

The demons cheered, pumping their fists.

Dean swept his black gaze across the crowd around him. “Heaven is Heaven,” he said. “Hell is Hell. Tonight, we retrieve one of our own.” He grinned and squeezed Castiel closer, fingers practically bruising on his hip. “And drag him home,” he growled, low enough that only Castiel could hear.

It sent shivers down his wings.

For centuries, the angels would mention the “wrath of Hell’ and Castiel never quite knew why it was bad if the Almighty Father was Almighty. He supposed it was a figure of speech. But now. Castiel was beginning to understand the truth behind the words.

The thought of being in Heaven when this army came knocking was enough to make his wings tremble. And with Dean at the forefront, energy crackling along his skin, his voice a low growl, and his eyes so black they looked red, it was enough to send any angel running for the castles of Heaven.

When they finally breached Heaven, it was like returning home. And Castiel had to remind himself that he _was_ returning home, and with a fanfare like no other to boot. What angel had ever returned to Heaven by storming the Pearl Gates with an army of Hell at their heels? Never. No one. The action was unthinkable. And yet, here was Castiel, on the arm of a demon like a sort of trophy wife, rising from the depths of Hell and Purgatory. His wings trailed behind him and Castiel couldn’t bring himself to raise them up.

He felt . . . . ashamed. He didn’t want to be. All he could think about was what Michael would say or how Hannah would react. He tucked himself closer to Dean and did his best to hide.

They stormed the forest. Dean stood in the center of the chaos as every beast and common demon and hellhound tore their way towards the city. They thundered their battle cries and roared to the crystal clear sky, calling for blood they wouldn’t get and revenge they could never have.

“Find Alastair!” Dean yelled. “Bring him to me! Mettle not in the affairs of Heaven!”

He must’ve noticed Castiel’s awe because he smirked and puffed out his chest a bit more than usual. “Amazing, isn’t it?” he said. “The power of Hell at your fingertips. Wouldn’t it be horrible to lose?”

Castiel wasn’t sure if Dean was trying to persuade him to stay or just bragging. It was hard to tell. With the way Dean was holding him so tight, Castiel wasn’t sure he would be able to escape anyway. But then, to his surprise, Dean loosened his grip and stepped away, giving him room.

“Lead the way,” he said, gesturing to Castiel’s wings.

Castiel ruffled his feathers self-consciously. “Lead where?” he asked.

Dean laughed, tipping his head back and dropping his mouth open, laughing so hard Castiel began to wonder if he was okay. His canines were elongated and his eyes held an evil gleam even though they were green at the moment. He laughed and the sound sent shivers down Castiel’s spine.

“Lead where?” he said. He flexed his hand and suddenly he held a gleaming knife etched with runes and humming with power. “Ha! Lead me to that bastard Alastair and to your bride-to-be and I will show you what happens when you mess with a Knight of Hell.”

Castiel felt his knees go weak at the order and stumbled through a yes-sir before spinning and hurrying off into the forest with his cheeks burning red. It was foreign to walk through trees without the undergrowth Hell had. He didn’t trip or get caught, there was a perfect path for him to follow and none of the hell beasts got in his way. And Dean was right behind him, murmuring death curses and vows of revenge on Alastair. Promises so vile and macabre that Castiel squirmed in discomfort. It was only when they reached the outskirts of the city, did the true chose and panic set in for Castiel.

Angels were screaming and fleeing their homes, taking to the air only to be met by screeching harpies and dust devils. The ones that stayed on the ground were met with hellhounds and creatures like Nakki and Aamon. And Castiel watched in awe as Heaven’s normal order collapsed. It was indeed hell.

“Come on,” Dean growled, grabbing Castiel’s hand roughly and tugging him along. “Let’s find Alastair.”

Dean didn’t balk at the chaos. He walked straight through it without even pausing and the crowd seemed to flow around him instead. Castiel wanted to stop and tell the angels and cherubs it was okay, that the creatures meant no harm, and that Dean had ordered them off, but there was no time. Dean walked too fast, a hunter with a victim. Castiel could only point him in the direction of the Silverfeather Mansion and try to keep up.

“There,” he said, pointing to Hannah’s balcony. “That’s her room.”

Dean sneered.

The marble steps cracked underneath him as he climbed the stairs. His power bending them and forcing them to break. He blasted the solid silver double doors off their hinges without lifting a hand. And he entered the Mansion without a second thought.

Mr. and Mrs. Silverfeather were huddled in the lobby, next to the stairs leading to the second floor. They looked absolutely terrified when their eyes fell on Dean. They didn’t even think to questions Castiel’s presence as he huddled in the shadows of Dean’s power.

“Get out!” Mr. Silverfeather said, bravely stepping up. He clutched a pure gold spear to his chest but it looked woefully fragile, like spun glass that would shatter on impact. “I’m warning you!”

Dean’s head ticked to the side and his smile stretched across his face, eerily creepy and not at all comforting. He laughed, and the spear crumbled to ash in Mr. Silverfeather’s hands.

“I don’t think you understand what’s going on here,” he said. His voice was layered, sounding male and female and beastly and angelic all at the same time. “I asked you a _question_.”

Castiel shrank back, drawing his wings tight around him. He wasn’t sure what to expect from Dean, but honest to Almighty Father, he was _scared_. Dean had promised not to hurt anyone but now – but now, he looked like he would smite everyone in Heaven all at once.

“Where is your daughter?” Dean demanded. “Where is that pathetic excuse for a demon hiding? Show him to me!!”

“What are you talking about?” Mrs. Silverfeather wailed, her wings limp and submissive, hoping to ply mercy out of Dean in some way.

“Alastair,” Dean growled, his voice dripping with anger and hatred. “The wingless angel. Where is he?!”

“Up – up – upstairs,” Mr. Silverfeather stuttered, shrinking back to his wife, wings also splayed in submission.

Dean didn’t give them a second glance. He looked to Castiel and nodded. “Let’s go,” he said and stormed past the Silverfeathers and up the stairs.

Castiel made a point of holding his wings high and still as he walked past them himself, doing his best to appear regal and composed. And he couldn’t help but smile as they glared at him but didn’t dare move from where they sat. After all the times they made him feel small—

“What is happening?” Mrs. Silverfeather demanded, her voice low and angry. “What is a _demon_ doing here?”

“Alastair is not an angel,” Castiel said. He didn’t want to tell them what tied him and Dean together. “All he wants is to take Alastair back to Hell.”

“A demon cannot exist without causing harm and bloodshed,” Mr. Silverfeather said. “Whatever he told you, it is a lie!”

Castiel swallowed and held himself straighter. “It is not,” he said. “Dean would not break his word like that. He is – he is a Knight.”

“And you are a fool!” Mrs. Silverfeather spat. “I _knew_ Hannah could never wed you! I knew it! You stupid, cloud-brained, pathetic excuse of an angel! The Almighty Father should cast you down to earth and rip off your—“

“Hurry up, Castiel,” Dean barked, already on the second floor.

Castiel jumped and hurried after, taking the stairs two at a time. He tried not to let Mrs. Silverfeather’s words get to him but they rang in his ears, echoing over and over. He started to worry and fidget. Would the Almighty Father cast him out of Heaven? Would He rip off Castiel’s wings and condemn him as a mortal? The thought made his shudder.

“Come on,” Dean said, frowning at him as he finally caught up. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Castiel quickly answered. His gaze fell to the Heaven gold on Dean’s finger. Would the Almighty Father kick him out for _that_? “Nothing’s the matter,” he added, just to make sure and looked purposefully away.

“Alastair could be anywhere,” Dean said, giving no indication that he noticed Castiel’s hesitation. “I don’t want him to find you by yourself. He’s much more powerful than you think.”

“I’ll be careful,” Castiel said, a little annoyed that Dean didn’t think he could take care of himself in his own home.

Dean must’ve caught his attitude because his lips curled. “Look,” he said. “Not every demon is gonna go gaga over your golden wings, okay? Not every demon is like me.”

Castiel blushed at the words, not sure what to say. But then, he didn’t get a chance to speak.

Each glowing, diamond bulb hanging in the hallway suddenly shattered, one right after the other, raining shards down on their hands. Castiel instinctively ducked, covering his head with his wings. Dean ducked too, eyes flipping to black as he snarled. An evil cackle echoed down the jeweled hallway, setting Castiel’s feathers on end.

“Awe, I never expected a Knight of Hell to be so . . . . Soft,” the voice said mockingly. “Tsk, tsk, Dean, are you losing your touch?”

Castiel spun around to see Alastair, dressed in the finest Heaven’s silks and glowing in Heavenly light. And he looked eerie and out of place and ghastly as his eyes turned smoky white instead of black. He grinned with vampire teeth. He didn’t look right wearing Heaven garb, and Castiel felt the fire of anger start in his chest.

“Isn’t this what every demon wants?” Alastair said, spreading his arms wide and gesturing at the golden halls around them. “Isn’t this what we’ve been waiting for? Isn’t this what we _deserve_?”

Dean snarled. Actually snarled, like some sort of animal. “Like Hell you deserve this,” he said. “No one but you wants to rule in Heaven!”

Alastair shrugged. “What else is there?” he said. “Earth? Humans get _boring_ , Dean. They can’t entertain forever. Besides—“ He held up his hand to show off the band of gold on his finger. “Doesn’t every demon deserve an angel whore?”

“No!” Castiel screamed. He flared his wings and lunged for Alastair, intent on ripping out his heart and throat with his own two hands. But the moment he got close enough, Alastair dissolved into smoke, leaving Castiel grasping at nothing.

“Is _this_ the one you want, Dean?” Alastair said.

Castiel spun around, immediately spotting Alastair only a little ways down the hall. He was closer to Dean now, and Castiel wondered vaguely if he would do anything. If he would help.

“I mean, you could do better,” Alastair went on, looking Castiel up and down. “Get you one that spreads like a slut. One that you could _actually_ knock up if you wanted. Just imagine all the demon-angel babies we could have running around, and how powerful they’d be.”

“I will strike you down where you stand,” Castiel vowed, starting to gather his grace. He was just about to unleash a blast of it when a howl rang through the house and then was echoed by the war cries of other hell creatures. Sounds that made his feathers stand on end.

Alastair laughed at his show of bravado before turning to Dean as if Castiel wasn’t even a threat at all. He looked confused for a moment, before he smirked.

“An army of Hell?” he said. “Why, Dean, don’t you think that’s a little much?”

Dean glared at him, raising his knife and prowling forward. Alastair didn’t look impressed.

“I think we deserve an audience,” Alastair said, glancing back to Castiel. “I want everyone to see how an angel breaks. Meet me where you would be if you hadn’t run off with you tail between your legs.”

Then he disappeared in a puff of white smoke.

“What is he talking about?” Dean said, stomping over to Castiel. “Where is he going?”

Castiel was panicking. Hannah was in danger and it was his fault. Alastair had a ring, did that mean they were already unified? He needed to help her! He needed to save her!

Dean grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the present. “Where is Alastair going?” he asked. His voice was low and calm, trying to get Castiel to calm down too.

Castiel wasn’t sure. He couldn’t think. Where was Alastair going? A place where he and Hannah would be if he hadn’t run away? Where, where, where, where? It suddenly clicked.

“The chapel,” he said and looked to Dean. “The chapel near the edge of the city! That’s where we were going to be married!”

Dean nodded. “Lead the way!” he said. “And my army will follow.”

Castiel swallowed and spread his wings. “I hope you can keep up,” he said.

Dean smirked. “You have no idea.”

Castiel took off, glancing down to watch Dean dissolve into smoke. The Silverfeather Mansion was large enough that Castiel could almost fly with his wings fully outstretched. Still, he was able to speed his way outside, flying over the chaos in the streets, heading straight for the chapel. And beneath him, the hell beasts moved with him. They abandoned their terror making and followed his shadow, howling and baying.

Castiel gathered his grace in preparation for a fight.


	7. Chapter 7

When Castiel burst through the double doors of the ancient chapel, Alastair had Hannah pinned to the altar, her jaw clamped in his grip, and their mouths crushed together. She was thrashing her wings in an effort to get away, grunting around the brute force. Castiel growled at her treatment.

“Alastair,” he said, low and dangerous.

The demon stopped the kiss, slowly pulled away with a smirk on his face. “So you came,” he said. “And what do _you_ think you can do against _me_?”

Castiel scowled. “How dare you?” he said. “Come to Heaven and _dare_ to think that you would live to see another day? _Dare_ to think you could take one of us and not be struck down where you stood? _Dare_ to think I wouldn’t come back to rip you apart myself?!”

Alastair laughed, throwing Hannah away from him. She hit the floor with a thud and gasped as Alastair placed a boot over one of her wings. The elbow joint. He pressed down and Hannah cried out.

“Castiel!” she said. “I need – Help me!”

“Hands off, Alastair,” Dean said, materializing in front of Castiel and stopping him from throwing himself wings first at Alastair. “And that’s an order from a Knight.”

“Oh?” Alastair said.

Hellhounds flanked Castiel, growling and giving off waves of heat. Demons and hell creatures gathered at the windows, crawling through the cracks and filling up the pews. Alastair didn’t give them a second glance and he didn’t step off Hannah either.

“And what happens when I don’t jump to obey you, your demon-ness?” he said, mockingly. “Will you strike down one of your own?”

Dean brought up his knife, eyes flashing black. “Yes, I will,” he said.

Castiel couldn’t let them fight. He couldn’t let Dean sacrifice himself. He looked to the demons around him, to the hellhounds, to Scraps.

“Help him!” he said. “Why aren’t you helping?!”

Nakki pointed to the gold on Alastair’s finger.

“We are not supposed to interfere with the affairs of Heaven,” she said. “I’m sorry, Castiel. But a Knight told us not to.”

Dean rolled his shoulders and sprouted two bat wings with a crack, black and leathery, snapping them wide. A tail snaked out of his pants, whipping back and forth. Two horns grew from his temples, curling down around his ears, ribbed like a goats and sharp as knives. He roared and lunged for Alastair.

Alastair cackled and grew wings of his own, dirty white scales and disgusting red membranes. His own horns jutted up and back, covering the back of his head. He met Dean midair and they crashed to the floor, rolling over each other and spouting the most foul language.

Castiel rushed to Hannah’s side, pulling her up and out of the way. She clung to him, wiping away the tears that streamed down her face. She was shedding chucks of feathers.

“Hell spawn!” Dean yelled, leaving a slash across Alastair’s cheek. “Submit and obey!”

“Not to a bitch like you!” Alastair snarled back, puncturing a hole straight through Dean’s wing. “You’re weak! And pathetic! It’s a wonder that so many still follow you!”

“I have _earned_ my place!” Dean said. “I climbed to the top!”

“Yes,” Alastair hissed. “And you fell for an angel!”

He flung Dean aside, sending him crashing into the altar. Dean grunted as one of his wings cracked loudly, and his knife clattered to the ground. He slumped over the stone, panting for breath. Alastair was breathing just as hard but was smiling triumphantly. He flared his wings, and Dean’s knife jumped off the ground and into Alastair’s hand.

“Your reign if over,” he said, stepping to tower over Dean. “And when you are gone, I will rule over Heaven _and_ Hell.” He sneered at Castiel and Hannah. “And have every angel whored out on the streets, like the dirty creatures they are.”

Dean growled but he was struggling to push himself up. He cowered in Alastair’s shadow, looking like a helpless welp. “You can’t do that!” he said.

Alastair only smiled. “Fucking watch me,” he said, raising the knife above his head. He bared his teeth and brought the weapon down.

Castiel jumped forward, feeling the knife punch between his ribs, cold for some reason, searing his flesh. He covered Dean with his wings, draping his feathers over him. Something sparked in his stomach and Castiel gathered his grace, baring his teeth at Alastair.

The demon stared at him, dumbfounded, as if he couldn’t believe what he had done. He still held onto the knife now stuck in Castiel’s chest, but his grip was weak. His bat wings wilted as Castiel began to grow.

Grace pour out of his eyes and his mouth and his nose, beaming pools of it, nearly blinding. His wings stretched out, his feathers blanketing Dean and covering the front of the chapel. And when he spoke, his voice was one of power.

“God the Father commands you. The Son of God commands you. God the Holy Ghost commands you. Christ, the Eternal Word of God made flesh, commands you. The sacred mystery of the Cross commands you, along with the power of all mysteries of Christian Faith. The blood of angels and the devout prayers of all holy men and women command you,” he said.

His body absorbed the knife. And Alastair stumbled back in awe. Castiel gasped, his grace flaring with power. His wings felt heavy and huge and as he looked over his shoulder, he watched the gold drain out of them, leaving them as black as Dean’s eyes. But he didn’t feel weak. He felt stronger than ever. He turned back to Alastair who cowered before him, the spell of damnation tearing at his edges. Castiel bared his teeth. He wanted to cast Alastair into the deepest pits of Hell and lock him there forever.

“Thus, cursed dragon, and you, diabolical legions, we adjure you by the _living_ God, by the _true_ God, by the _holy_ God,” he continued. “Cease deceiving human creatures and pouring out to them the poison of eternal damnation; cease harming those in Heaven.

_Begone_ , Satan, inventor and master of all deceit, enemy of man’s salvation. Give place to Christ in whom you have found none of your works; give place to the One, Holy, and Almighty Father. Stoop beneath the all-powerful Hand of God; tremble and flee when we invoke the Holy and terrible Name of Jesus, this Name which causes Hell to tremble, this Name to which the Virtues, Powers, and Dominations of Heaven are humbly submissive, this Name which the Cherubim and Seraphim praise unceasingly repeating: _Holy, Holy, Holy_ is the Lord, the God of Hosts.”

“Stop it!” Alastair screeched, clawing at his face as the words tore into his flesh. His wings withered and his horns crumpled to dust.

Even the hellhounds and demons and other beasts from below shrunk at Castiel’s words. They hid behind the benches and ducked out the windows. Some of them even scurried back to the shadows.

“Begone!” Castiel repeated. The word falling like a hammer, and Alastair crumbling under the blow.

With a final scream, he dissolved into oil, oozing between the floor boards and dripped back down to where he came from. The gold band that had been on his finger clattered to the ground, the sharp ‘ping!’ echoing in the silence.

Castiel turned to Dean who was still draped over the altar. Power still coursed through his veins and it needed to go somewhere. He placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and healed him in a flash of light, feeling his wings shrink back down as the excess grace poured out of him.

Dean gasped as his wing straightened with a snap and the blood on his hands disappeared. When his eyes cleared of the black and he looked up, he jerked in surprise, scrambling away. Then, he seemed to realize it was Castiel and stared in awe.

Castiel offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet.

“Your . . . . Your wings,” Dean said.

Castiel looked at the black feathers. While his wings had shrunk back to their normal size, their golden, Heavenly gleam had yet to return. They didn’t feel evil. Only looked like it.

Dean’s fingers brushed over the tear in Castiel’s clothes, where the knife had entered. There was no wound of course, but Dean was still gentle.

“My blade did this to you,” he said.

Castiel shook his head. “Alastair did this to me,” he corrected. “Not you.” He reached to take Dean’s hands, but Dean shrunk away.

“Don’t,” he said. “You were right. We don’t belong together.”

Castiel frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Dean slipped the Heaven gold off his own finger and turned to Hannah, who was leaning up against the wall for support. Her silver wings looked ragged and thin and her hair was a mess from the whole ordeal. Still, she somehow kept that Heavenly beauty around her, whereas Dean, although healed, still looked worn out from the fight, dirty and exhausted.

“You belong with one of your own,” Dean said, extending the ring to Hannah. “You deserve to be with the one you love.”

She stepped up, looking a little scared at accepting something from a demon, but she took the ring all the same. She slid it onto her finger with a sigh of relief.

Castiel glanced to the band of gold that lay on the floor where it had fallen from Alastair’s hand. He saw the demons watching them. Nakki watching them. Scraps whining at the back of the chapel. He turned back to Dean.

“But what about you?” he said. “All this time, didn’t you want . . . . me?”

Dean laughed sheepishly, glancing to the floor. His bat wings drooped behind him and his tail twitched nervously around his feet. “Why does it matter what a demon wants?” he said. “Besides, it would be selfish to keep you all for myself.”

He knelt and scooped up Alastair’s ring and slipped it gently onto Castiel’s hand. His touch lingered for a moment, and then he pushed himself to his feet.

“Come,” he said to the demons that still remained. “We have to go.”

Without a murmur of complaint, they began to vanish, one by one. The hellhounds slunk out the door and the spirits evaporated into puffs of dust. Scraps whined as he padded to Castiel’s side, pushing his head under his hand. He was back to cold now that the fight was over and Castiel gave him a scratch behind the ears. Scraps gave him a small woof of a goodbye and turned to follow Dean out the door.

“Wait!” Castiel called.

Dean paused and turned, raising an eyebrow.

Castiel wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. He just knew he didn’t want Dean to leave. “Can’t you stay?” he offered.

Dean shook his head with a sad smile. “No, Castiel, I am a demon, a Knight of Hell, and you are too beautiful.” He pointed behind Castiel, to where Hannah was waiting at the altar. “She needs you, Castiel. More than I do. Besides.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in a genuine smile. “I have Hell to raise.”

As Hannah and Castiel watched, Dean dissolved into a cloud of smoke, drifting out over the city until it was too thin to keep track of. Still, Castiel watched, gazing longingly after it. It was only when Hannah took his hand and wrapped a silver wing around his black one did he look away.

“You are brave,” she said.

Castiel frowned. “What do you mean?”

Hannah looked down to the ring on her finger. “To love someone who is not like you,” she said. “To love someone that people will say you cannot be with. That is bravery.” She looked up at him and clasped his hand to her chest. “That is love.”

Castiel looked back out over the city, straining to catch one last glimpse of black smoke. “I . . . . I loved him,” he said, almost not believing the words himself. “I love him,” he repeated a little louder and with more confidence.

Hannah gave him a smile and slipped the ring off her finger, tucking it into Castiel’s hand, closing his fingers tight around it. She pushed him away. “Then go,” she said. “Follow him.”

“But you!” Castiel said. “I can’t just leave!”

Hannah laughed. “I’ll tell my mother about your horrible black wings,” she said teasingly. “She would never let me wed an angel with black wings. Think of our children!”

Castiel knew she was trying to comfort him. To convince him he was doing the right thing. But he could see how much she hurt.

“Hannah,” he said.

She gave him a smile. “Go on,” she urged. “Go. I can see what your heart wants, and it is not me.”

“I love you,” Castiel said.

“I know,” Hannah said. “But not as much as you love Dean. Don’t break his heart, Castiel. Show him the love of Heaven.”

Castiel’s wings slumped with relief, and he grabbed Hannah in a tight hug. “Thank you,” he said, burying his face in her feathers.

Hannah squeezed him once and then pushed on his chest. “You must go quickly,” she said. “Before other angels start to arrive.”

“I hope you find someone,” Castiel said as he backed away. “Someone better than me. Someone who will love all of you with all their heart.”

“That is someone we all long to find,” Hannah said. “And Dean is that someone for you.”

Castiel wiped away a tear. “Thank you,” he said one last time before jumping into the air and taking flight.

He headed straight for the forest, straight for the hole Dean and his army had torn into the boundary and climbed through. It was already healing itself by the time he found it, slowly closing itself up so that nothing else could get through. He clenched the ring in his fist tight before pulling his wings close. He dove down through the crack and left Heaven far behind.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my favorite chapter and so fun to write! [ talk with me](https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fmanuscript-or.tumblr.com%2F&h=ATOK3Kpub-MLoUelqpy_uysEiT88k5FMbi6I7WngRkd6pG_U8arXuTHIl70oBqfuQfN37wCgFCqUr1CpJ1FdXgl-51xXBTPBBrkOJa5bmaeoTuDCS0VQT6Jtp4naSDndqu50rLFXgEqilw)


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spooky spooky halloween, I feel like this chapter really got away from me but it was still fun ^-^

Castiel glided over the bare treetops, careful not to let their reaching branches to snag on his feathers. His black feathers. He blended in down here now, black on black. It was strange and honestly unnerving how well he fit in, like he belonged. He didn't want to think about it. Instead, he scanned the area, looking for Nakki or Aamon or anyone he recognized.

He was looking for Dean.

He didn’t know how he would ever find the Knight in the huge expanse of Hell. It seemed so unlikely. It wasn’t as if he could just _pray_ to Dean and he would hear; Dean wasn’t like an angel. Castiel flapped harder, picking up speed. He wondered, briefly, if he should use his grace to search, spread it out and make himself a target. How many creatures down here didn’t respect Dean? How many didn’t care who Castiel was? With a shudder, he pulled his wings in and landed gently, doing his best not to disturb anything.

A bone chilling howl echoed off in the distance, making Castiel shiver. He wasn’t even sure where to start looking for Dean. Did Hell’s geography change? Did it stay the same? Were there quadrant names and levels that Castiel could maneuver to through or was it all unexplored wilderness? Castiel gritted his teeth in frustration and cursed Hell for being so chaotic.

Another bone chilling howl. Another shiver. Castile wondered if he was even in the same place he had been before.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Castiel twisted, flaring his wings, but then relaxed when he saw that it was only Nakki. He could ignore her whorish ways for a moment to ask her for directions. She didn't have wings for Castiel to judge but she looked happy enough to see him.

“I'm looking for Dean,” he said. “I need to—” What did he need to do? What did he even want? “To find him,” he settled on.

Nakki shuddered and shrunk away, her skin getting a little melty and shedding streams of water. Her eyes shifted left and right and she clutched her hands in front of her. Castiel had to look purposefully away from the way her chest was squished and plumped and Castiel shuddered at the sin.

“You don’t want to know,” she said, the corner of her eyes drooping down. “The Knight isn’t exactly . . . . . approachable at the moment.” She fidgeted with the tips of her seaweed hair, tugging out a few strands. “Too scary. Much, much too scary. Nobody dares get close.”

Castiel felt his heart clench. The longer he stared at Nakki the more she dripped until she was half a puddle on the ground and thrown prostrate at his feet, as if he was worth bowing to. He tucked his wings close, so that he wasn’t so big. Still, Nakki refused to look up.

“Please, angel,” she said. “Dean – the Knight, he is not in the right mind. He will turn his wrath on us all. I do not want to see you hurt.”

Castiel dropped to his knees, trying to grab Nakki’s hands. He couldn’t believe he was going to touch such a vile creature, but then his hands slipped through hers, going straight to the ground instead. She was all liquid at this point and all he got was wet.

“Nakki,” he tried instead. “I need to know where Dean is. I want to help him.”

She looked up at him, her eyes and mouth drooping. She pouted and then grabbed him, suddenly solid again, pulling him down. Castiel didn’t even know what she was doing until her lips were on his and water was sloshing into his mouth and he was spluttering and choking. Kissing! They were kissing! When he tried to to push her away though, his hands went straight through her shoulders. He thrashed his wings, struggling to pull away, but Nakki held him tight. Only after a long, awkward moment, did she release him.

“Why?!” Castiel spluttered, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. The water streamed down his chin and onto his neck and he was trying to ignore the fact that it was _literally_ Nakki. This hell creature. This whore beast!

Nakki was shrinking down even more, puddling at his feet, goopy tears streaming from her eyes. “I thought that would stop you,” she said. “I thought that would send you running back to Heaven. I am sorry, angel! I am sorry!”

Castiel forced himself to relax his wings. She was only trying to help, he told himself. Help in her own, disgusting way, and he forced himself not to recoil completely. He certainly didn’t want to try to touch her again, so he hovered around her as she cried big globs of herself.

“Look,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just need to find Dean.”

Nakki raised a wobbly arm and pointed off behind her. “There,” she said. “Be careful, though. He is not happy to deal with when he is this angry. Not happy at all.”

Castiel brushed his feathers along her shoulders as a last comfort, shivering when the tips came away wet. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I’ll . . . I’ll do my best.”

Nakki was too busy blubbering to answer him, seeping into the ground only to be soaked back up into herself to be cried all over again.

“I'll be back,” Castiel said, though he wasn't sure exactly how comforting his words actually were.

He started out walking, because he wasn't actually sure how far away Dean was. After long minutes of walking, he reluctantly began hopping along, fluttering his wings so he would coast a few steps before setting down again. He took to the trees shortly after because then he had a vantage point, able to see farther. It was chilling how quiet and vacant the area was with no sign of life and no trace of movement. In Heaven, you could never walk down the street without meeting another angel or a cherub to say hello to. Castiel had to remind himself, Hell was a completely different place. Everything was so silent, that the crack of sudden lightning and boom of following thunder set Castiel's feathers on end and he toppled from his tree branch, crashing gracelessly to the ground. He grunted at the impact but his wings were fine, not broken. He picked himself up quickly, brushing off a couple leaves and wrapping his feathers around him. Another flash of lightning and more thunder. He shivered.

A howl was the next sign of life, long and mournful, echoing for several long moments before fading back to silence. Castiel wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

Then there was an explosion and everything went white.

Castiel was blown off his feet, slammed back against a tree. Everything was so loud that it went quiet. And then the heat and noise came crashing back down, ringing and terrible and nothing like Castiel had ever experienced before. Chaos, chaos, chaos. It was terrible and great and had his wings flopping limp in a display of automatic submissiveness. Something told him he wouldn't be able to fight whatever whatever was out there. A blast of heat hit him next, flattening his feathers and blowing back his hair. He shuddered.

_Dean!_ He called out in his mind, praying to the Knight without thinking. _If that is you, I beg, please stop!_

A mouthful howl rang out again, sounding eerily similar to the one from before. The sound had barely faded before a column of fire erupted a little ways away, sending another wave of heat rolling over Castiel. His wings were limp. He couldn’t find the strength to drag them up. He shuddered and shivered and wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball until the danger had passed.

“Dean!” he called out, finding no other course of action than to call out for mercy. “Dean, please! I –I came back!”

He had to move. He had to do something. He couldn’t just sit here with limp wings as if _that_ would save him. With gritted teeth, Castiel crawled his way up to his hands and knees, ignoring the way his wings draped down on either side of him. Water fell from his eyes. He felt like he was going to vomit up his grace and die apart from Heaven and all alone.  

The ground shook beneath him as something thudded down a little ways away, and Castiel’s wings lost any sort of strength left in them. He kept his head bowed, even went so far as to press his shoulders and forehead against the ground, ignoring the way the dirt and dust clung to his skin.

“Angel,” a voice growled, and a wave of hot breath washed over Castiel. “What is a creature like you doing in _my_ domain?”

Castiel shuddered and raised his eyes enough to get a look at the owner of the voice.

It was a demon. A corrupted demon. It must be corrupted, nothing like it could exist normally for sure! It sent shudders down Castiel’s wings and he whined out loud.

The demon was naked, standing on two goat legs with gleaming ebony hooves that gouged into the earth. Its chest was humanoid, bare and gleaming with sweat, and its arms ending in clawed talons dripping black icor. Twin bat wings stretched off its shoulders, spread wide and threateningly, the membranes thin and grey and the scales black. Perhaps the most disconcerting of all, was that the demon had more than one face.

The first was human, one of the eyes black and the other green. The mouth bulged with barely concealed fangs. The veins around the eyes and temples were black, throbbing. Twin horns curled down around its ears, dripping with blood and gore. Another face was canine, a great grey wolf with bared yellow fangs and the body of a child—a babe!—hanging from its mouth. Its yellowing eyes rolled wildly and foam caked at the corners of its mouth. The third and last face was a woman with silver eyes and colored lips. Her mouth was dropped open in a moan, and her wild messy brown hair tumbled down the shared shoulders.

Castiel wanted to curl in on himself and disappear.

“Answer me,” the demon demanded. It was its male human face that spoke, a forked tongue slipping between its teeth at every word. “Answer me!” it roared when Castiel didn’t respond right away.

“I am Castiel,” Castiel blurted, dropping his gaze respectfully to the ground. “I am an angel—” The words ‘of the Lord’ died in his mouth. That wasn’t what he was anymore. He couldn’t claim that title. “I am an angel,” he repeated. “I am . . . fallen. I cannot return to Heaven. I have run away.” He was crying again, the words only driving home his situation.

The demon grabbed him, claws tearing through his clothes but not his skin. He was hauled upright, until he was standing in front of the demon, only coming up to its chest, impossibly small. The hot breath from the wolf’s mouth blew in his face, smelling of death itself. The woman ignored him.

“Cas-ti-el,” the demon said slowly, brushing a claw down Castiel’s face. The man’s face looked the most interested in him. “A fallen . . . . angel.”

Castiel shuddered against the touch, twitching his wings. He didn’t dare raise his fists. This demon could crack him open and drink his grace without a second thought. Instead, he titled his head, baring his neck, his body naturally surrendering itself over without a second logical thought. He draped his wings open, showing the underbellies, the places where the demon could tear into his primaries and secondaries and tertiaries with ease and render him flightless. He gave himself up.

“Cas-ti-el,” the man repeated, his black eye flickering and his face muscles twitching.

“Run away with me!” the woman begged. The clawed hands grabbed Castiel tight, gripping his arms and pulling him close. “Run so far away with me, beautiful thing. We can run away!”

“Eat your bones,” the wolf chanted in a low voice. “Drink your blood. Eat your bones. Drink your blood.”

“Come,” the man said.

The bat wings rose, and Castiel was yanked into the air, left with no choice but to flap his own wings or be forcibly wrenched in half. The demon flew with a jerky pattern, as if its weight was just barely too much. Castiel wasn’t sure where they were going, but they began to pick up speed, hurtling through the air. So fast, that Castiel felt as though he was going to fall apart. He wrapped himself in a layer of grace. And then another and another. He felt himself growing, changing, crushing. All his bones seemed to snap and heal and then break all over again. His entire body seemed to be being squeezed, every bubble of oxygen exiting his lungs in a snap and all his muscles being pressed to strings.

And then he was exploding outwards in a gush of energy and grace and emotions, everything suddenly too much for him to handle. His heart was too big for his small chest, so his ribs cracked. His wings were too large for his shoulders so his arms shattered. His face didn’t seem to match or work for what he was feeling so it melted away. He was nothing. And everything. He was growing and shrinking and living and dying. He was free. He was trapped. He was gorgeous. He was ugly. He wasn’t even sure if he was even a “he” anymore. Castiel was simply Castiel.

And Castiel burst into the space that the demon had stopped at, overflowing and growing into something else. Something new. Something bizarre. A mix of everything.

Wings and talons. Eyes in places where eyes never were. Horns sprouting from heads. Mouths gaping. Flesh growing.

Castiel was an angel, an angel that had wings as long as the sky, an angel with eyes and mouths that longed to sing the praises of the Almighty One, an angel with black streaked grace and a fallen spirit, and an angel that wasn’t alone.

A mouth pressed against Castiel’s. At least, they think it’s their mouth. They thought they had been speaking Enochian, but no, that’s only one of them. One mouth speaks, another sings, another begs the Almighty Father for forgiveness.

And one kisses the demon. Kisses Dean. Castiel isn’t sure why they didn’t realize it before. Dean, driven by madness and love, falling apart under his own demonic power, taking a form that could express what he felt. Just like Castiel had.

The Enochian stuttered to a stop, the twisting words dying on a tongue that Castiel didn’t even know they had. The begging stopped too, the realization that the Almighty Father no longer wanted them hitting Castiel right in the chest. No amount of forgiveness could bring Heaven back within their grasp. How low they had sunk to be kissing a demon.

Castiel kissed back.

“Let’s tear apart the world,” the demon’s male face said, pulling back. The green eyes are now oh-so familiar. “Let us wreak havoc.”

“Let us make love,” the woman begged. “I can stop time just for us. We have as long as we want. Let us make sweet, sweet, slow love.”

Castiel wasn’t sure. Their wings shivered and then curled inward, wrapping around both them and Dean, cocooning them in the inky blackness of the feathers, cutting them off from the world. Or Hell, really.

The longer they kissed, the more Castiel calmed down. They shrunk back down on themselves, melting away as their panic of power slowly ebbed. Their body shrunk back down and returned to normal proportions. Faces melted away and eyes closed and sealed over. Castiel became normal again. And he knew himself again.

Dean melted with much more chaos. The wolf howled and gnashed its teeth before disappearing. The woman wailed and sobbed but disappeared all the same. Everything shrunk away until it was just Dean and Castiel. Kissing. Holding each other.

Hell seemed so huge now that he was small again. Castiel wasn’t completely sure if he liked that sort of feeling. He fell firmly into Dean’s arms, still stuck in the never ending kiss. He didn’t want it to end either, like somehow that would be the end of him too.

“I didn’t expect,” Dean said, being the one to pull away. He was breathless. “You to ever come back. I was ready to burn Hell down to its roots. I was about to –”

“I was scared,” Castiel admitted, letting his wings fall limp. “I was –”

“Don’t be,” Dean said, cradling him close. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. I didn’t realize.” He brushed a hand along the curve of Castiel’s wing, dipping beneath the skin to brush against his grace. Both actions made Castiel shudder and goosebumps to travel down his arms. “Your grave is bruised.”

“I have—I have left Heaven,” Castiel said, willing showing Dean the undersides of his wings. He twitched the tips, flexing and relaxing them, trying to show them off. It was embarrassing to be trying to woo Dean while he admitted how he was no longer holy, but every instinct in him wanted to dance for Dean. “I have fallen.”

Dean only smiled. “And so have I.”

Castiel’s wings twitched again, splaying themselves further. “Stop it,” he said.

“Stop what?” Dean said, pressing his mouth against Castiel’s forehead. His lips curled in a smile and he tucked Castiel close to his chest.

“I have _fallen_ ,” Castiel repeated. “Stop acting as if I am perfect. I am no longer one of the Father’s.”

“That does not make you worthless,” Dean said. His eyes flicked black. “That makes you far from it. That only means I will not have to fight off all the other angels vying for your attention.”

“Because no one wants a mate with black wings and a bruised grace,” Castiel said.

“I do,” Dean said, planting a firm kiss on his lips. “I want you.”

Castiel felt shivers of pleasure run down his wings. “And I have nowhere else to be,” he said. “Nowhere else to go. No one else to be with. No one else but you.”

 

~*~

 

When the Almighty Father created the world and man the fell to sin, demons ran amok on the earth and had their fun with the whims of mankind. No faster had Adam taken a bite of the Fruit, then did stories of fiery eyes and gnashing teeth start to circulate among humans. Horror stories and whispered campfire tales, anything to scare the children into obeying. It was a time of rejoicing in Hell, times of plenty. Demons toasted each other and blessed the name of the Devil for such good fortune.

And as the tales grew wilder and crazier as demons grew braver and braver, stories of a particularly wild demon with eyes like ice and wings of chaos seemed to stand above the rest. Other stories of a demon with eyes as green as the forests and teeth that rent souls apart. The pair of demons that always traveled together and always killed together and always haunted human souls. The mournful wail of one and the howling cackle of the other.

If Castiel told the truth, the life of a demon suited him much more that the life of an angel. And while he never did acquire the same taste for souls that Dean had, slurping them out of the corpses he broke open, he did like popping his wings open to spook anyone who wandered too close to the veil. He learned to twist his grace up and to make his eyes flare with now-unholy light. And while the human screamed, that is when Dean struck.

It became a game to pass the centuries. Together, they played. They haunted. They hunted. And in the end—though there never really was an end for two immortal beings such as themselves—Castiel did fall in love.

 


End file.
